


I Love You

by shadowsamurai



Series: Progression [3]
Category: Foyle's War
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Spoilers: Up to and including Season 4. Set as an epilogue/alternate ending for Season 4, Episode 2, 'Bad Blood'.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Up to and including Season 4. Set as an epilogue/alternate ending for Season 4, Episode 2, 'Bad Blood'.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

CF-SS-CF-SS-CF-SS

Foyle walked quickly, but not *too* quickly, to the hospital. He couldn't appear more than concerned about Sam's condition; he couldn't appear how he really felt, which was terrified. He was terrified he might lose her, so soon after they had admitted their feelings for each other.

He allowed himself a slight smile. Less than six months since Sam had slept in his arms for the second time, less than six months since they began walking out, discreetly of course. Foyle hoped that when the war ended - it couldn't go on forever, after all, no matter if it felt that way sometimes - he and Sam could be seen in public together, holding hands, eating a meal. He wanted their relationship to be accepted because he had only ever felt this way before, and that was with his late wife.

"Mr Foyle?"

The voice startled Foyle out of his reverie, but when he saw who was speaking, he felt the uncharacteristic urge to punch the face in front of him. "Mr Farnetti," he replied instead, his tone neutral.

"Sam's asleep."

"I see." Foyle stopped walking, his hat in his hands. Whether Sam was asleep or not, he was still going to sit with her, but he didn't want to appear too eager to the American.

"I'd better be going," Farnetti said, nodding his head and turning away. But he hadn't gone more than two steps before turning back. "Can I ask a question, Mr Foyle?"

"Sure," Foyle replied somewhat reluctantly.

"Is Sam stepping out with someone?"

Now Foyle frowned. "I thought she was engaged to you."

"Sometimes I wonder if that's what she wants," Farnetti replied. "I've got the feeling there's someone else."

"I see." There wasn't really anything else Foyle could say without lying. He knew there was someone else - after all, he was the someone else.  
He had never really agreed with Sam leading Farnetti on, but as she had so practically pointed out one night, if she wasn't seen to walking out with somebody so long after Andrew, tongues would start to wag.

Farnetti was staring at Foyle. "You wouldn't tell me even if you knew anything, would you?" he asked, his tone accusing.

"You may be Sam's intended, Mr Farnetti, but watch your tone with me," Foyle replied firmly, the word 'intended' almost spat out.

The American's shoulders slumped. "I just want the truth, sir. If there is someone else, she should've told me straight off. I can handle it."

"I can't speak for Sam, Mr Farnetti. I'm afraid you'll just have to wait until she's awake. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to speak to the doctor. I want to make sure Sam is going to recover."

"They wouldn't tell me anything," Farnetti said sulkily.

Foyle tried not to smile. "If I find out anything, I'll let you know."

"Thanks." Farnetti saluted before turning and striding out of the hospital. Foyle counted to ten before heading in the direction of the bed Sam was occupying.

As soon as he saw her face, Foyle felt himself relax. He had come much too close to losing her, and being scared wasn't something he was used to.

"You know, you're not very good at pretending to be asleep," he said softly as he sat down.

Sam's eyes fluttered open. "Chr- I mean, sir, I wasn't expecting to see you."

Foyle smiled at her slip up. Her enthusiasm for their relationship meant he had to extra careful what she said; more than once, Sam had almost announced to the world that she was stepping out with the policeman, and he was certain Milner had guessed what was going on. "I wanted check you were alright. I, er, just bumped into Farnetti in the corridor."

Sam's pale face immediately creased. "I've been dreadful to him, haven't I? I really don't want to marry him."

"I can't say I'm disappointed by that news, or surprised," Foyle said quietly.

"I should jolly well hope not," Sam replied.

Foyle smiled but the expression didn't last long. He hung his head and stared at his hat in his hands. "Sam…."

His driver frowned even more. "Sir? Is everything alright?"

"I almost lost you," he whispered. "I…I've never felt so helpless before, even…even with Rosalind."

Without thinking, or caring, Sam reached out for him, and reluctantly, only because of where they were, Foyle let go of his hat and took her hand. "I'm fine now, sir, and it's all because of you. And Sergeant Milner, of course."

"I shall pass your thanks onto him," Foyle replied in a serious voice.

Sam glared at him before glancing around. "Really, Christopher, I'm fine. Please stop worrying." She squeezed his hand. "And I never had any intention of marrying Joe, or anybody else for that matter. I love you." There, she had said it. It had been on Sam's mind for a while now, and more so after she fell ill. Almost dying had a way of putting one's feelings in perspective, and she realised she really did love her quiet, enigmatic boss.

Foyle, however, looked ready to bolt. He thought those three words will fill him with joy when she said them, not dread, and without quite knowing why, he wanted to leave. "Sam, I…I have to go." He let go of her hand, stood abruptly and left the ward, his driver looking confused and hurt, and wishing the Anthrax *had* killed her.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

CF-SS-CF-SS-CF-SS

Milner had gone to the hospital after work to check on Sam. Her constant optimism had been sorely missed around the station, and he hoped she would be back on her feet soon. The policeman had also noticed how much more short-tempered Foyle had been with Sam's absence, which only went towards confirming Milner's suspicions.

Now he hadn't been eavesdropping, but when he arrived on the ward to see Foyle already there, holding Sam's hand, Milner hadn't wanted to interrupt. He didn't want to leave either, so he hung about unobtrusively, waiting for the opportune moment to go up to them.  
When he heard Sam's quiet confession, Milner felt strangely smug, and more than a little happy for the pair of them. But then Foyle had stood up and left, and with surprising speed for a man with a false leg, Milner moved to block his boss's path.

"Sergeant Milner," Foyle said, only mildly surprised. "Do I need to ask what brings you here?"

"Not really, sir. Are you leaving?"

Foyle nodded and looked about. "Yep. I, er, have things to do."

Milner tried not to frown as he appraised the situation. While his conscience - and his heart - was telling him to speak his mind, plain talking with Foyle was not something he was accustomed to, and he was unsure how it would be received. But he had nothing to lose, other than his job, and he quickly decided it was worth the risk.

"Sir, I need to talk to you."

Foyle's shoulders sagged fractionally. "Now, Sergeant?"

Milner nodded firmly. "Now, sir. Shall we go outside?"

"If we must," Foyle said, sighing. He had a horrible feeling he knew what was coming.

"Sir, I find myself in a bit of a predicament, and I hope you'll forgive my bluntness, but I must speak my mind," Milner started. "We've all been worried about Sam, but I have the feeling things run deeper where you're concerned. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think Sam holds a special place in your heart."

"Is there a point to all of this, Sergeant?" Foyle asked.

Milner refused to be fobbed off. "Yes, sir, there is. I happened to overhear part of the conversation you and Sam just had."

Foyle waited before replying, "I see."

"Sam needs you, sir," Milner said quietly. "I understand what she said must have come as a shock to you, and perhaps you feel like you're somehow betraying Rosalind, but we all have to move on sometime. And as I see it, Sam would never even attempt to take your late wife's place. She knows, as we all do, that part of you will always belong to her." The Sergeant paused, giving Foyle chance to answer, but the older policeman remained silent. "If you don't love Sam, then tell her. But if you do, then get back in there right now and tell her."

"Have you quite finished, Sergeant?" Foyle asked.

Milner recognised that tone of voice. Most people thought Foyle was a quiet, unassuming man, and his tone hardly changed from one mood to another, but Milner had spent enough time around him to recognise when he was angry. The Sergeant sighed resignedly. "Yes, sir. I've finished."

Foyle made to walk passed him, but stopped. "It's not that easy, Sergeant. Sam is a young, vibrant woman who should be with someone who can give her a full life, not…me."

"Forgive me for saying, sir, but isn't it more important what Sam wants?" Milner asked. "And it seems quite clear to me that she wants you."

"And what about what I want, Sergeant?" Foyle replied, half-amused, half-annoyed.

"Sir, do you love her?" Milner asked directly, and waited patiently for an answer. "I'll take that silence as a yes. Then I don't see what the problem is."

"Not everyone will be so understanding," Foyle said.

Milner stared intently at his boss. "Sir, when I was shipped out of the army and given…given this leg, people treated me differently. Look at my ex-wife," he murmured. "But I found that most people, and the ones that really mattered, treated me exactly the same. Like you, sir, and Sam. Don't let others dictate your actions."

Foyle sighed. "One day you will make an excellent Inspector, Paul, and a good husband and father," he said quietly. "Now, don't you have somewhere to be?"

Milner smiled. "Don't you, sir?"

"Yes and I'm going. Good night."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

CF-SS-CF-SS-CF-SS

Sam was still crying when she heard someone approach the bed and when they didn't speak straight away, she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. There was only one person she could think of who wouldn't say anything at seeing her crying.

"Sam."

"Go away," she replied petulantly.

In any other situation, Foyle would have found her tone amusing, but not now. He put his hat and coat on the chair and sat on the edge of the bed, near Sam's waist. "No."

As soon as she felt the bed dip, Sam's eyes flew open and when she saw Foyle sat so close to her, she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him. "Can I help you, *sir*?"

Foyle winced. "Sam, I'm sorry. You surprised me. After everything that's happened, it was the last thing I expected."

"Well it shouldn't have been," Sam replied.

"No, it shouldn't, I know." Foyle looked down at his hands. "You told me something important and I just…I ran away. I can't change that." He looked up at her. "Will you let me try and make it right?"

Sam eyed him warily. "How?"

"Well, Sergeant Milner has just given me a thorough telling off," Foyle said with a smile, "And he made me see the truth. And the truth is…I love you, Sam. I realise it seems like I'm just saying tha-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as Sam sat up abruptly and threw her arms around his neck. "I believe you," she whispered before starting to cry again.

Foyle hesitated only fractionally before wrapping his arms around her and holding her. "There there. It's okay now. Everything will be fine, Sam. I promise."

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave soon," a nurse said quietly as she approached the pair.

Sam kept her face hidden, but Foyle looked up. "I understand."

"She's been through a lot, hasn't she?" the nurse stated sympathetically.

"Yes, she has."

"And so have you from the looks of it."

"It was a worrying time for us all," Foyle admitted.

The nurse nodded. "Mmm," she murmured thoughtfully. "I think that perhaps in this instance, I can make an allowance, but only for tonight, Mr Foyle."

"Erm, what do you mean?"

"You can sleep in the chair, if you want," the nurse told him. "It won't be warm or comfortable, but at least the two of you will be near each other. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go on my rounds."

Foyle watched her go in surprise. "I think Sergeant Milner could have been right," he said quietly, but when he received no reply, he frowned.  
Looking down, he saw Sam had falling asleep and a smile crept onto his face. Very carefully, Foyle lay her down on the bed and pulled the covers up under her chin. Without thinking - or not wanting to stop himself - he brushed some hair off her face and leant forward to kiss her forehead.

"Yes," Foyle murmured as he made himself as comfortable as possible in the chair. "I do love you, Sam. I think some part of me always did."  
And in her sleep, Sam Stewart smiled.

FIN


End file.
